Unveil me!
by EnglishPrincessRose
Summary: Can HB confront her past and find enough trust to love and form friendships? Rating may change for later angst.
1. Observations

Disclaimer: The characters, the show and the books not belong to me, I'm just borrowing them. The idea originally belongs to Jill Murphy.

Although she loved the dark and the cold, she hated early mornings. She never felt fully refreshed or reborn after a night's sleep like her colleagues did. Imogen Drill always enjoyed a morning run in the nearby woods to get her ready for the coming day. However, Constance Hardbroom could not survive the day and its inevitable problems without a strong dose of wide awake potion.

This particular morning was the morning of January 1st. Constance accepted that the storm beating at the castle was a herald for troubles and storms within the castle walls that were yet to come. The thunder and lightening did not ignite hope for the coming year.

It was soon time for Constance to drag herself away from the window and the rain, which demonstrated that at least the weather felt empathy for her. Fortunately the fury of the wind was the only noise that broke the silence within castle. The girls and the intolerable chaos they brought with them would not return for another two days, leaving Constance to prepare for her potions classes. She could guarantee that this would take her mind off of the memories and nightmares.

First though, she would amble to the staffroom to greet her colleagues. She didn't eat breakfast anymore but she did feel the need for some sort of caffeine loaded beverage. Upon approaching her destination, Constance noticed Imogen's muddy footprints; she must already be back from 'the great outdoors' as Imogen called it. From a distance she could already hear the incessant, and borderline hysterical, chanting of Davina Bat. Davina was quirky and absolutely certifiable, yet she did have a somewhat adorable and fascinating manner.

Inhaling deeply, she entered.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Amelia Cackle enquired noticing the abnormally large dark circles around her Deputy's eyes.

"Indeed," she replied forcefully as she desired not to provoke unnecessary concern or pity from her colleagues. She referred to them as colleagues to remind herself that that is all they were. They were not friends for Constance had no need of friends. Only the weak needed other people. Constance Hardbroom was most certainly not weak. She would not be seen as weak nor would she be treated that way. Her colleagues knew this. They knew how important this was for Constance, yet nothing is ever as it seems and they had often suspected that her heart was not as strong as her façade. Imogen in particular was very worried about the woman she desperately desired to get to know. She studied Constance as she sipped her tea, no doubt fuelling her caffeine addiction. Imogen didn't know why but every time she watched her like this she appeared paler, almost as if something was haunting her and disrupting her sleep and disrupting her sleep. She knew that Constance had trouble sleeping at the best of times but since she had come back from visiting her family, family that no one knew she had, she seemed more troubled and exhausted. On closer inspection she was looking increasingly gaunt, this was not surprising as Imogen could not recall the last time she saw Constance eat anything. She seemed to sit down more than she used to, as if she was on the verge of collapse. Her hips and ribs were perturbing in an alarming manner. All was not well.

Imogen resolved to find out what was wrong. Constance may not have been the easiest person in the world or the most forth – coming, nor was she particularly friendly but Imogen hated to see any soul, even one as hard as Constance's, contorted in silent agony. Imogen decided to allow Constance half an hour to herself after she left the staffroom. Then, assuming that Constance would be there, Imogen made her way to the potions lab. She was surprised not to find her there or anywhere else in the castle for that matter. On exploring the courtyard, she spotted Constance in an obvious state of melancholy.

"Finished your class preparations already Miss Hardbroom?"

"When I finish my preparations is no concern of your's. There are still two days before the girls return, which is quite enough time for me to finish thank you very much."

"No need to get so defensive, I was only alluding to the fact that you can't often be found out here."

"It's quite simple really; we all need fresh air every now and again."

"Are you alright?"

"Perfectly."

How do you save someone that won't admit that they are drowning? Imogen was struggling. She didn't know what to do or say. Some people take comfort in just being listened to; some people needed a hug, Constance the Ice Queen fitted into neither category. So what now? Just as she was contemplating this, Imogen felt a drip of rain on her forehead. To begin with the rain was delicate. Every drop a tear from Heaven, yet the calm beauty disappeared as soon as it came. The rain cascaded down and carried with it a reflection of the burden that Constance was carrying with her. A burden that was slowly but surely breaking down the strong, strict and stern Constance Hardbroom. A burden that Imogen could clearly see was causing her colleague to deteriorate. Looking at her again she could see that Constance was fading away before her very eyes.

"We ought to go inside Miss Hardbroom…… Miss Hardbroom?"

Something was definitely wrong.

"Miss Hardbroom?"

"Go on if you wish Miss Drill but I must remain to allow the rain to cleanse my soul."

"Cleanse your soul?" Imogen was frightened now. This was not Constance speaking.

"There are things, a great many things that you do not know Miss Drill. I am more than merely my black dress and severe bun. Not that anyone cares about the real me though. I'm just the strict Deputy Headmistress, ready to ruin everyone's lives. I couldn't possibly have any scars could I?"

Imogen was seriously concerned now. It wasn't like Constance to express angst like this. Imogen thought there was something extremely disconcerting about seeing the strong and great Miss Hardbroom so depressed. Was there a hint of fear that she could sense as well? All this convinced Imogen beyond a shadow of a doubt that Constance needed someone, however much she would hate to admit that.

"I'm here now and I'm listening. Take off your mask and tell me about your scars."


	2. Peeling the first layer

Disclaimer: see first chapter.

Thank you so much to my reviewers. I hope you like this next part.

Chapter 2: Peeling the first layer.

"Go on Miss Hardbroom." Imogen knew that Constance wanted to talk but she would still need a bit of encouragement. She wasn't the type of person to reveal all her problems just because it was raining.

"If I'm going to tell you my life story, then perhaps you should call me Constance."

"That's something I never thought I'd hear you say, not to me anyway. Well Constance can we please go inside before I die of hypothermia? Either that or we are going to have to go for a run to keep warm."

Constance didn't have to think hard to make that decision.

Once they were inside and dry, they continued their conversation in Constance's room. Constance sat on her bed in quiet contemplation. She was struggling to find the words after a lifetime of silence.

"Just take a deep breath and plunge into the deep end."

"Must you always use sports related metaphors?" Imogen noticed that Constance's tone was not as scathing as normal. Without hesitation this time, Constance continued.

"Did you know I spent the summer with my sisters?"

"I didn't even know you had sisters. You never talk about them."

"I don't talk about them because our lives are just too complicated to explain. I have two sisters, Celestia and Carrabelle. It's just been the three of us since our parents died. I was 14, Tia was 16 and Carra was 12.

At this point Constance paused. Did she really want to tell Imogen everything? No, she didn't but she needed to.

"I didn't realise, I'm so sorry."

"The circumstances of their deaths and the years of problems before that made life difficult for Tia and I but to this day Carrabelle doesn't understand. I will come to that later though. Tia and I developed our own coping strategies, which were not always constructive. I have had to battle extremely hard to overcome my addictions but even now I still relapse. We have no other relatives, so we were sent to Heckitty Broomhead's academy. We thought that getting away from home would make things better but it didn't. I know I am strict but I only act in the best interests of the girls, Broomhead is just pure evil. At least being there kept us together. You may think that I am the Ice Queen; don't give me that oh so innocent face Imogen, I know you do, yet I love my sisters very much. I have always been close to them because we've been through so much together."

"What do your sisters do?"

"Tia is also a teacher. She lives and works at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Carra doesn't have a job because she can't cope with the tasks that most of us can. She needs to be taken care of all the time. She still lives at Hardbroom Manor with her carer and her daughter. Tia and I go back in the holidays and on any weekends that we can to look after her."

"So is Carrabelle married?"

"No she isn't emotionally mature enough for that and neither Tia or I trust men, so we are all single."

"Sorry I just assumed that she would be involved with someone because you said she had a daughter."

"Yes, she does. Lily is a wonderful little girl but the circumstances of her conception were not desirable. The way Carra is makes her extremely vulnerable. One day her old carer, who we fired immediately, left Carra alone in the house and she was raped by a stalker that had been watching the house waiting for an opportunity. She should never have been left alone, she can't cope by herself."

Imogen saw a mixture of guilt and anger on Constance's face. Surely she can't believe that it was her fault? Imogen decided that Constance didn't need to hear that it wasn't her fault because that guilt could only be erased by Constance herself. Sadly Imogen realised that this was not going to happen because there would always be this nagging voice at the back of Constance's mind, telling her that she could have prevented it. She should have been there.

"That is so awful. I'm glad to hear that you fired her. How old is the little girl?"

"She is 4 years old. She is a little sweetheart but of course she doesn't understand why her mummy can't take care of her like other mothers take care of their children."

"That is such a shame."

"It isn't all bad. Carra may not understand what it means to be a mother but she does love Lily greatly. We all do. Tia and I go home as often as we can to see her, take her on trips and make her hot chocolate, things like that. She loves it when we are there because we treat her like the special little angel that she is."

"I never knew that you had such a caring and compassionate side. You rarely show it at school."

"There are only so many people that you can look after and worry about. My mind is always focussed on arrangements and the needs of Lily and Carra."

"Who looked after Carra when your parents died? I mean you were so young."

"Some things in life make you grow up very quickly. Tia and I were already much older than our years. We had been taking care of Carra for many years by the time they died."

"I can see that all those years of concern for your sister have really taken their toll on you. You have incredible strength to have been able to cope for so long. May I ask why it is that you have been so exhausted lately?"

"You may and I will answer that in good time. This conversation has been extremely draining on me. Talking about things makes them seem all the more real. I believed that if I separated my home life from my work life, then I could bury myself in my work and I would cope much better. That is not the case. I have come to realise that you can't run from the past. It won't disappear just because you pretend it didn't happen. It is a relief to finally share this with someone Imogen; I would like to continue to confront the less desirable aspects of my life with you some other day."

"Of course, I am here whenever you need me. Would you like me to leave you alone now?"

"No, please, I am enjoying your company. Everyone at Cackle's is so consumed by the image they have of me that they never take the time to have a real conversation with me. You spend so much time arguing with me over school matters that you assume I am incapable of discussing anything other than the school. So, let's talk about something happier. Let me prove to you that I am more than the judgments you have made about me. Tell me about your life and family."

And so the colleagues began a conversation about happy memories, such as the time Imogen went camping with her brothers and the hours that Constance enjoyed on the beach with her daddy; just the two of them. Mrs Tapioca brought them some food, which Imogen was delighted to see that Constance actually ate. By the end of the evening the two were no longer colleagues; they were friends. They talked about the school and the girls. Imogen was more than surprised to learn that Constance didn't actually dislike Mildred Hubble, although she did find her mildly annoying.

They talked late into the night, laughing more then either of them had in a very long time.

"Well, I suppose I had better get to bed now. Night Constance."

"Goodnight Imogen. See you tomorrow and thank you for today."

"Of course, I'm glad that we have learnt more about each other. I have to ask, why did you open up to me and not Amelia?"

"Because you realised that I needed someone when I didn't even know it."

Imogen smiled because for the first time since she had known Miss Hardbroom, she discovered that there was more to her than just her façade. The woman underneath, Constance, needed to be cared about as much as anyone else, yet from what Imogen had understood today, she had been too busy caring about everyone else. Constance returned Imogen's smile, realising for the first time since the summer that she was not alone.

After parting, both teachers fell asleep almost immediately; exhausted but somehow refreshed. Part of Constance's burden had been lifted, she now felt freer than she ever had. Imogen had also been liberated because she had helped a former colleague, and new friend, to feel more than just pain.

About two o'clock that morning, Constance was once again tormented by flashes of memories. She was a girl again and she was afraid. As the nightmare ended with the face that would forever haunt her; she awoke. Constance was more frightened than she would ever admit; even to herself. Just as she was on the verge of tears she remembered that there was one person that wanted to know about her scars.

What Constance didn't know was that at that very same moment; Imogen Drill sat bolt upright. She didn't know what had made her awake so suddenly, she only knew that something certainly was not right. Someone was suffering and Imogen had a fairly good idea who it was.


	3. After the nightmare

Disclaimer: don't own anything to do with Worst Witch.

Just a little filler chapter because I haven't updated in awhile. Not much just a little snack so to speak.

Once they had been startled awake, neither could escape back into sleep. Imogen couldn't shake the feeling that Constance was in pain. She wanted to go and check on her but she knew that she couldn't test the boundaries of their newly formed relationship; not yet. Imogen feared that it would be all too easy to push her away again. So, out of sheer frustration, Imogen decided to meet her faithful friends – the training shoes that had never let her down – for a run in the woods.

In a room not too far away, the omniscient Constance Hardbroom heard her friend leave her room. Knowing her as she did, she knew she had gone for a run. Normally when she couldn't sleep Constance would do some marking or lesson plans, not that she needed anymore, to distract herself. But now she had to know, why is this woman always running?

Constance quickly donned her most appropriate woodland attire and set off to find her new friend. She didn't join her but flew just out of sight above her, so that she could watch without being seen. Imogen seemed so free, so uninhibited. It made Constance sad, why couldn't she run free? She couldn't stand to watch her for much longer, envy was not becoming of a witch.

Back at the castle, Constance marked to second years' potions test; Mildred Hubble had spelt hemlock wrong,

again, (honestly that girl!) up until she heard Imogen come in from her run. She decided that as Imogen had made the first move, she would make the second. Of course she would wait until Imogen had settled from her run.

Ten minutes later Imogen was surprised to open the door to find Constance standing there a) because it was the infallible Miss Hardbroom and b) because it was half past three in the morning.

"Sorry to interrupt but I knew you were awake as I heard you go for a run. I wondered if I might talk with you for awhile."

"Constance, is everything alright?"

"Perfectly, just wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, come on in."

Once inside, Constance realised she had never seen Imogen's room before, not surprising really given their history. It was more feminine than she had expected, not that Imogen was butch, she'd just been surprised to see so many figurines of ballet dancers. Everything about the room emphasised just how different the two women were. Imogen had a green duvet cover with little flowers on it, much more pleasant that Constance's purple one with little witches on it. Imogen's room was busy and chaotic, much like her hair and her chairs were soft. Constance found these chairs comfortable, much to her surprise. It was alright to sit there for a moment but she wouldn't be taken in by this New Age nonsense about the value of comfort.

Whilst Constance had been studying the room, Imogen had been studying her. She still looked tired.

"So you want some tips on how to redecorate?" Constance threw her a confused 'what planet are you on?' look.

"You said you wanted to ask me a question and you were studying my room intently."

Constance's eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Sorry, just a joke," she should have known humour wasn't the right tactic, "what did you want to ask me?"

"Why do you run so often?"

"To work off stress and clear my head. It forces me to think about things properly. You should try it."

"Why were you out in the middle of the night?"

"It really doesn't matter what woke me, I just couldn't sleep once I had awoken." Imogen knew that Constance didn't believe in psychic connections or anything like that. She knew Constance would scoff at her for saying that she had known something was wrong.

"What are you doing up anyway?" This seemed more appropriate than to say 'I know you were startled awake by something troubling, so what was it?' but far less effective.

"Just had a bit of an unfortunate dream that's all." Trust Constance to put it that way, 'unfortunate' as if she couldn't attend a party she never really wanted to go to in the first place.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No, it's late. But I do want, well need really, as hard as this is for me to admit," _take a deep breath Constance,_ "some company. I do get lonely sometimes especially if I am left alone with my memories."

"Sure I'm wide awake now anyway." Imogen wasn't at all, in fact her eyelids where getting heavier by the second but she could see the effort and tremendous courage it took for Constance to open up like that and she didn't want to let her down.

"Imogen, if you could change the past. If you could lead a different life, would you?"

"To tell you the truth, I never wanted to be a teacher. Since I was 4 years old I have dreamed of being a …"

"… Ballerina. The figurines give you away." Constance smiled to herself, what fun it was to imagine little Imogen dancing around her room.

Imogen was slightly taken aback._ Wow, this woman has such a great eye for detail. No wonder she looks at me as though I'm inferior. _

She continued regardless.

"This may never have been what I wanted but I love my job. Our past experiences have shaped the people we are today. Change the past and you change us." Probably not the best thing to say to someone that clearly wasn't happy.

"Yes. For some people that is a good thing though." Suddenly Constance had a look that Imogen had never seen on her before and never wished to see again. Deep seated misery that you can't change your past for better memories. A small glimmer of regret that told Imogen that Constance wanted to abandon the Ice Queen forever.

If Constance hadn't been shaped by her past, she wouldn't be Miss Hardbroom. That thought saddened Imogen. For better or worse she was their Miss Hardbroom and in their own way they all adored her.

Imogen reluctantly realised that the pain and longing was back in Constance's eyes. The smiley, chatty woman (well as close to one as Miss Hardbroom would ever come) from early had gone back to where she had been hiding. At that moment, Constance recognized that she was being subjected to scrutiny again and she didn't like it. She didn't like the way Imogen looked at her.

"Anyway Miss Drill, if in a flight of fancy you decide to go on another run in the middle of the night please do so more quietly. Goodnight."

With that she left the room in a dignified manner but with something else. What was it? Oh yes, shame. Shame because she had alluded to being miserable. Shame because she had let her guard down. Shame because she was weak. Shame because Imogen pitied her.

Imogen was somewhat surprised by Constance's sudden exit. She had hoped that once she had peeled the first layer it would be easier. Miss Hardbroom was back. She knew it was too much to hope for everlasting miracles.


	4. Kitchen meetings

By the time she was back between the same cold, bland four walls of her bedroom, Constance was beginning to regret her decision. She hated being looked at in that way but she was so tired of being alone. If today proved anything though, it was that she didn't have to be alone; she was choosing to be lonely. Reprimanding herself sharply for being self-indulgent once again, she pulled the third year essays out of her desk. Since she couldn't sleep, it was logical for her to do something productive. Hopefully the errors in Mildred Hubble's work would drown out the melancholic thoughts and early morning angst that she couldn't seem to banish. Constance read with her usual degree disbelief. Honestly! That girl had deemed it appropriate to mention cheese in her essay about the categorisation of medical potions. Despite her initial incredulity, Constance smiled. Mildred had given her an idea.

In a very similar room, although admittedly more girly, across the castle, Imogen had fallen into a troubled sleep. Constance's abrupt exit from her room had upset her but after deciding there was nothing more she could do tonight and there would be plenty of time to help Constance tomorrow, she went to bed. For now, she would escape into sleep. Well, that may be what she had wanted but wasn't what she got. Shortly after she had fallen asleep, Imogen had what was, objectively speaking, a rather clichéd dream. It was the classic scenario of someone drowning. Imogen was the one standing on the shore trying to save Constance. After that dream and Constance's brusque reaction to her, Imogen woke feeling disheartened and worried once more. That was until she saw something under her door: a piece of paper. Eying the door suspiciously, she went to fetch it. It was a note. Imogen couldn't believe it; the note was from Constance.

_Imogen,_

_1am in the kitchens. _

_Constance_

Imogen had absolutely no idea what the note could mean, yet she took it to be Constance's way of reaching out to her. Imogen smiled when she reread the note, realising that Constance had reverted to calling her Imogen again.

For the rest of the day, both women's thoughts were occupied by that note. Imogen wondering what it could mean. What would she find when she got to the kitchens? Constance spent the day worrying about whether it was such a good idea after all. For both women the night seemed to slow to an intolerable pace.

Each deciding that they should be early rather than late, they met by the stairs leading to the kitchens at 12:50am.

"You received my note then Miss Drill." Such an obvious fact, it really didn't need pointing out but Constance was stalling and Imogen was well aware of it.

"Ah, back to 'Miss Drill' again. I wondered how long it would take." Constance, as her companion knew she would, chose to ignore this.

"Shall we proceed to the kitchens?" Imogen smiled to herself, she'd always loved Constance's quirky old-fashioned manners. She did 'proceed' to the kitchen, thinking for once that she would be the one to take the lead.


End file.
